


Deal with a King

by pandorasv13



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Hell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorasv13/pseuds/pandorasv13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was nearing a point of simply giving in to the abuse.<br/>Just like when I was alive, right? This is punishment.<br/>His gaze trailed past the party, locking onto the door that was beginning to creak open.<br/>Are you calling out to me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I think I’m supposed to die.

There was a charred broken road ahead of him. Red and black skies spilled down, its horizon drenched murky, bloody brown. On either side of the narrow path were frozen craters and ice peaks curling upwards. Silently rattling chains and drifting grey smog rolled by. None of them paid heed to the solo traveler. In the distance, he saw cracked cliffs and torn apart oceans.

To say not a soul existed would be infallible.

After all, he was in hell.

Hell was not filled with lively fire and moaning, crazed torturers. It was icy and dead – just the way a person had to be in order to exist on that land.

Whispered voices ghosted through his body, leaving him colder each time. He tried to wrap arms around himself, but his hands were icier than the touches. At one point, he attempted to run and feel the blood rush through his body. However, there was nothing but more indecent shudders and numbing.

Can I speak?

He slipped off the unstable road, falling into one of the frozen, jagged depressions. Crying out, he heard nothing but his own internal screams. Noise didn’t exist in the physical sense anymore – as far as he knew.

Shadows descended upon him all at once. Their mouths were only gaping darkness which tore into his flesh, devouring the essence of what he used to be. He clambered away from them, gasping and desperate to escape the painful clawing at his body. Colors of black, white, and blue flickered across his vision, yet he still could not feel a hint of adrenaline.

Everything moved in slow motion as he tried to race away from the hungry shadows. He saw an end to the road, or rather a pit into which he could fall. There was no other option, and so he plunged in, feeling weightless for a split second.

The next moment, the painful tearing of his innards had ceased and he then found himself among writhing bodies. Noise and movement returned as he blinked slowly, getting used to the feeling of his senses.

The road was gone.

The ice remained.

He gulped, his body becoming warm in the lively, yet frozen walled room. There was furniture and bedding spread around the vast hall with lithe bodies groaning and grinding on them. Getting to his feet carefully, he tried not to catch anyone’s attention, eyes flitting around at the mounds of human flesh molding together in the most pleasurable, disturbing way he had ever seen. They were clueless to the blood spilled from skin broken on ice, or the thick smell of bodily fluids staining everything.

Turning to the left, he saw a doorway and proceeded towards it. His first step seemed to signal an immediate halt to all activities in the room.

Grunts and moans ceased.

Not daring to take another step, he eyed the hell-bound whores with wary and fear. Not even a second later was he pinned to the freezing floor, his clothing torn away and his body caressed with roughness or lust.

“G-Get off!” he shouted, coughing as oxygen filled his lungs for the first time. His eyes squeezed shut as his hips were dragged up and hard wetness shoved against his entrance. “Fuck…,” he groaned, glaring loathingly at the decaying man who dared to force himself inside. “Get the fuck off of me!” he screamed, turning his head away when he felt teeth and tongues nibbling and sucking at every inch of skin.

Soft hips pressed down on his abdominal before soaking heat trapped his erection. He grunted in a mixture of agony and forcible pleasure at the pressure around him. Dozens of fingers and lips danced across his flesh, taking him for everything he was worth. Just as he began thrusting up and into the figure who rode him, he felt a second shaft forcing its way inside of him.

Eyes bursting open, he sat up, only to be shoved back down with a painful crack. The two horny members slid in and out without pause, careless of the profusely bleeding hole. “S-Stop…,” he cried, voice suddenly swallowed up as any number of genitals was shoved at his face.

He was nearing a point of simply giving in to the abuse.

Just like when I was alive, right? This is punishment.

His gaze trailed past the party, locking onto the door that was beginning to creak open.

Are you calling out to me?

He tried to ignore everything, yet he couldn’t. There was freedom, choices, wonder, and most likely grotesque pain to be found. It would never be enough to spend the rest of his dead days in a lusty orgy.

Summoning up what energy he could, he tore away from the people holding him down and then attempted to peel the iron grip they had on his bruising hips. He gritted his teeth, fighting with the hands whilst holding off the number of figures still trying to get inside him. Taking a slow breath, he punched the man humping him into a bloody mess and then shoved away the other man who had decided to penetrate him.

Breathing heavily, he stumbled towards the exit, every part of his body aching. He kicked away hands that curled around his ankles and shrieked wildly at the ones who threw themselves at his departing backside. Thick liquid rolled down his thighs, seemingly endless as he tried to thrust himself over the threshold.

A strangled noise escaped him as he lunged into a black space, the door slamming shut behind him. He was falling again, coldness embracing his body in an entirely new way. There was less hatred here. His mind cleared, only to be filled with sorrow that he couldn’t recognize.

 

Do you prefer these clothes?

 

He blinked once and then the soles of his shoes were touching down on a frozen lake. Testing his vocal chords, he squeaked before clearing his throat. The young man turned in a slow circle, taking in the sight of a black stained ice walled room. The ceiling was simply the night sky – or rather, something that resembled such. “Do I prefer these clothes…you asked me?” he questioned the air, voice finding its way around the circular space. “Do I need clothes after I’m dead?”

“Many people are more comfortable meeting me in living human attire.”

Whipping around, his eyes locked onto a person seated upon a large throne of bones. There was youth and age in the person’s face, yet his gaze was as black and glassy as the walls. Dark brown hair brushed across the pale white features, his head adorned with a thorn-rimmed crown. A sleek white suit curved around his slender figure, making him look that much more precious.

“And you are…the king of hell?” the young man asked finally.

“Yes,” the youth nodded slightly, tilting his head, “…and you are Cho Kyuhyun. A lowly prostitute. A murderer. Alone. At age twenty-four you were bought by a serial killer.” The king spoke in a purely monotonous way, knees pulling up to his chest as those blank eyes flashed and flickered with colors. “During sex, he sliced your body apart. With your dead body, he ejac—”

“ENOUGH!” Kyuhyun screamed, unable to help himself as memories were stripped from his mind. Everything flashed by, engraving emotions but leaving nothing for those emotions to connect with. He slumped to the ice, heaving breaths that were not needed.

Chilly fingers soothed his contorted features, forcing his hysterical face up. Kyuhyun met a cold kiss, filled with pity and tenderness and possibly compassion. “Let me take away your human suffering,” the King of Hell whispered like the coldest wind of winter, “and allow me to replace it with hellish pleasure.”

Kyuhyun felt his eyes closing as all the hateful memories faded away, leaving him with only the bitterness. “Give me your name,” he breathed clutching onto the king, head pressed against that slight chest. “I want your name.”

“For you,” the king murmured, “I can be your precious, forgotten Ryeowook.”

“Who is that?” Kyuhyun rested his head on the man’s lap, arms reaching around to hold the king’s sides.

“The first person you ever murdered,” he responded softly, “it is an important name to keep.”

Kyuhyun nodded, clinging onto that single memory. “Then…Ryeowook it is.”


	2. Part 2

Did I really kiss the King of Hell?

Kyuhyun sat up, looking around the chilly bedroom. There was no one around, just the vaguely familiar glassy black walls and what felt like an eternal silence. He looked down at himself, seeing the same plain black clothes he had been given upon arrival.

Touching his lips, he felt coldness and recognized it as the freezing touch of Ryeowook. That was the name of the king, wasn’t it? Or at least, that was what he wanted to be called. Why wasn’t Kyuhyun in a different level of Hell though? He recalled that lusty room, but then he very clearly remembered dropping into the deepest pit of Hell where Ryeowook was waiting.

Why would the king be waiting though?

What was so special about Kyuhyun?

The young man climbed down from the silk covered bed and padded across the icy floor towards the door. Twisting the knob, Kyuhyun ventured into a long corridor, passing by closed door after closed door.

Quietly, he ran his fingers across the plain walls, wondering who lived beyond each door. Were they grotesque features? Or were they filled with treasure? Kyuhyun could feel a slight twinge of emotion, but didn’t have enough interest to actually pursue the feeling. Strangely enough, he wasn’t sure if he had much of an interest in anything.

Was that how being dead felt?

Kyuhyun rested his hand on a particular door for a moment longer than the others. Absently, he began opening it, weight pushing forward…

“The King won’t be happy if you do that.”

He stopped, turning around to see a man dressed all in white watching him. A smile caressed the male’s face, his eyes turned up like crescents. “Who are you?” Kyuhyun asked, backing away from the door.

“I’m the King of Angels,” he answered simply, lifting his arms up, “can’t you tell by my clothing?”

“The King wears white, too,” Kyuhyun responded.

“He’s very interested in traditional Chinese theater,” King of Angels sighed, warily, “which is why white is evil and black is considered good. I suppose he dressed you in black because he thinks highly of you.”

“We barely know each other,” he stated, only then realizing that that probably wasn’t true. How could a God-King not know everything about the people he rules over? “…Never mind,” Kyuhyun muttered.

“Hmm, well where are you headed?” King of Angels changed the subject, “Are you going to visit The King?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“You’re living in his palace. It would only be proper to ask him why a Sinner has been accepted into the palace of Hell’s king,” the older male mused. “Or do you think avoiding him in his own home is the right thing to do?”

Kyuhyun’s mouth twitched in amusement. “You think a lecture from an angel will make me change my mind?” He turned away from the King of Angels. “I’ll go look for him though. I was planning on it.”

“Do tell him that I’ll come visit again. Perhaps next time I’ll bring His Virtuous King, too.”

“You mean…Heaven’s king?” Kyuhyun blinked.

The man just chuckled. Shrugging softly, he pointed down the corridor. “You should head out. The King dislikes being ignored.”

Behind Kyuhyun was Ryeowook. When he turned around to say something to the King of Angels, the man was already gone. Frowning, Kyuhyun stiffly spun on his heel and approached the King of Hell. “Why are you standing there?” he asked.

“It’s my home. I’m allowed to stand wherever I want,” he tilted his head curiously. In a flash, Ryeowook was a breath away from Kyuhyun, one hand against the male’s chest, and the other touching his cheek. “How does it feel to not sleep anymore?” The King whispered.

“I don’t really have an opinion on that,” he answered, finding that to be the only appropriate thing to say. “Why did you bring me here instead of letting me suffer?”

“Is my reputation so sad now?” Ryeowook prompted, “Is being with the King of Hell no longer a good enough punishment?”

Kyuhyun closed his hand around the slender boy’s wrist, pulling it away from his chest, “When I see you with these eyes,” he indicated the slight figure, “I don’t see anything like a fiery lord ready to wreak havoc on the damned.”

“What do you think the word ‘hell’ means?” he inquired, eyes focusing on the way his hand was held by the other male.

“It’s a place after life. People are sent here when they’ve committed unforgivable acts while alive,” Kyuhyun replied easily, “That’s what we’re taught. That’s what I know.”

Ryeowook pursed his lips for a faint second, before smiling in the smallest of ways. “You…have an ignorant view, as do most humans.” He raised his free hand up, once again placing it on Kyuhyun’s chest over the no longer beating heart. “My hell is a palace of ice with a abundance of resources and therefore sin. You…Kyuhyun,” Ryeowook felt the hold on his wrist loosen, “I want you to rid me of my hell.”

“Excuse me?” he managed, blinking and backing up. Just as he took a step back, a force shoved him forward again, his body unable to move an inch.

Ryeowook nodded at the vast, solitary space. “I let you keep your humanity, or what little of it you still possess. I’ve seen your memories and I hold them dear to my being. With what emotions I do know of, you could say that I have become fascinated with…your life.”

“You mean the life I don’t recall?” Kyuhyun questioned, somewhat annoyed at his inability to move away from the slender figure. It felt like a joke to think that such a tiny person could hold him physically.

“It doesn’t matter if you recall it, because I recall it and I am this entire world,” he looked up, black eyes flickering with nothing more than a few shallow ripples of faux emotion. “You will give me humanity. That is why I only stripped you of your darkness. Let me experience something new for the first time in thousands of years.”

Kyuhyun sighed, finding no way to resist, nor would he dare to resist. Who in their right mind refused a king? “And what will this entail for me, your highness?” he murmured, mildly sarcastic.

“Be yourself,” Ryeowook nodded, “you do that well already.” He wove his fingers through Kyuhyun’s dark hair, pulling him closer until their faces were near. “And…live here…be my companion.”

“A dog?” he frowned.

“No…a servant,” the king corrected.

“That isn’t much better,” Kyuhyun remarked, mouth twitching. He cupped his hands over the slender ones holding his face. “And in exchange, do I get to reside in a peaceful place for eternity?”

The king slowly nodded.

“Fine then,” he smiled, “then, thank you for allowing me into your home…Ryeowook.”

A strange expression crossed the powerful person’s face before he stiffly pressed his lips together. Kyuhyun leaned forward a bit more, features lazy and curious. The king backed up a bit, eyes lifted up to gaze into those prying depths.

“You are welcome…Kyuhyun.”


End file.
